When the day comes to lay down my coal
I hope you’re there, I hope you are
When the sky breaks and it breaks on my soul
I hope you’ll run, I’ll hope for…

Bitter vices; streaming niceties
I want you underground with my ringing sound,
I know you’re born this way and I want you this way
Do you want me? Okay?
Or do your tilt-head eyes mean mine are in the way of my brain?

When the part comes to lay down your cane
I hope you’re there, I hope I am
When the train stalls and it’s through the vein
I hope you’ll run, I hope to

Bitter dices; mild philosophies
I want you underground with your ringing sound
I know you’re mostly good and I want you that good
If it’s mostly— okay.
Or do your strong hold bones say you’re tired, but I’m tired
So you’re strong?

When the drill comes to lay down our stance
I hope I’m there, I hope you are
When the bolts cling and the thronging ties dance
I hope we run, I hope so.

Bitter spices; awkward entities
I want you underground with my ringing sound,
I know you don’t cross and I don’t want to cross
Cut across here. Okay?
Or do your dough-hand games mean our strength is not enough to move on?